A/N: something I wrote for school a while ago, kinda rough. Lemme know what you think!
"I'm frightened" I told my father as I watched him shake with rage.
"I'm not," he announced, "I've protected what belongs to me".
In this moment of fury, I debated from within myself whether my father's 'belongings' referred to me or the dagger he held so dear. My eyes fell upon the dagger as the sunlight reflected off of it. Blood filled the crevices of my father's engraved name; the blood cast from men doing their duties. These knights died honoring their country at the hands of my father, who desperately struggled to keep me from doing the same. Though I had not actually taken these lives myself, I knew I indirectly caused all of this. I knew my irrationality. With today as my birthday, I had become a man at age 13 with no room for such stupid thoughts. Still, I felt a sense of guilt. I looked at the men my father had just killed and remembered that feeling I had felt just a few minutes ago. I felt prepared to serve my country, but I could not help but think of how much I would miss my father. The only life I knew revolved around him. As I looked at the dead knights, I wondered, did they have children? Should more sons feel my dreaded feeling of loneliness?
At that moment, I felt sick. The man before me no longer appeared to be my revered and respected father. He had become a killer, a coward, a monster. I couldn't stand the sight of him.
So I ran.
I ran away, in no particular direction. I ran as fast as my legs would take me and my lungs could stand. Later that night I realized where I wanted to go- I would find the families of the men my father had killed. My father had become a monster, and monsters had to be killed. We would kill my father and take the Dark One's powers. We would use them for good, not like my father had. It would take time, but it would be worth it. Men like him do not deserve the power of the Dark One.
I walked into the Storybrooke City Orphanage with my backpack slung over my shoulder. Today it was full of much more than just my homework. It contained the very important papers needed for our revenge.
"Blaze, did you get them?" Ben asked.
My reply was all but a simple grin and the extraction of the aforementioned papers from my bag. I carefully tossed them to him, making sure nothing broke loose from its assigned stack held together by paper clips.
He flipped through them and smiled brightly. "What now?" He asked.
"See this one?" I asked him, holding up the blue paper at the beginning of the manila folder, "It's a subpoena. It means he has to show up at court Monday."
"Oh man, I can believe we're really doing this, I can't believe we're really taking down Mr. Gold!" Ben exclaimed.
"I can't believe Mrs. Bellagio is doing all this for free" I added.
"Blaze, she lost someone too. She's doing this for the same reason we are… revenge."
"Actually, she'd use the word compensation" I corrected.
"Lawyers" we said, laughing.
"Come on," Ben suggested, "Let's go tell the others"
Bancroft and Digby walked beside me as we set out to find the rest of our vengeful pact. My father had killed 5 knights- Bancroft was the son of one who was left with no other family, just as I am now. Digby left behind two sisters and a mother to come journey with me. He promised to return home as soon as possible with riches for his family to indulge in. I had discovered that the third knight had no existing family to seek revenge against his murderer. The fourth knight's family was about to receive a visit from our rag tag gang. We walked through their village, strangers to their people. I walked up to a young girl, feeding hay to her livestock.
"Pardon me young one, where lives the kin of Sir Esmond Fairfax?" I asked her
She gave me no words but pointed to a small house near us. I thanked her and walked over to the house where I knocked on the doorframe. A woman came out of the house, answering my knock.
"Pardon us, ma'am, but are you the widow of Sir Esmond Fairfax?" I asked her.
"I am so" she replied, "What do you come looking for?"
"Your husband was killed by a cowardly, malicious man. I am out to cast my revenge against him. I am seeking a son from you to help me in my quest" I told her.
"Alas, I have no son. But if you young men plan on traveling a far way, you'll need someone to come help you in your journey. I can help you if you would allow me to come" the widow offered.
"That would be very helpful, thank you" I said to her.
"What exactly are you planning on doing in order to extract your revenge against Rumpelstiltskin?" Widow Fairfax asked.
"I'm going to take the thing from him that he used to kill your husband- I'm going to take the Powers of the Dark One".
We walked together, the four of us, until we met the last member of our group of mourners. His name was Ansley. He left his mother, behind, promising to return with enough food for the both of them. Then we set out to seek our revenge. Widow Fairfax, Bancroft, Digby, Ansley and I would kill Rumpelstiltskin and steal The Dark One's powers. We would have control, we would use them for good, we would be careful with them and another soul would never perish at the hands of the Dark One. Another family would never be torn apart by the Dark One's murderous dagger. Our revenge would mean safety, easy breathing for those who feared the Dark One. Our revenge would better this whole nation.
We would have the perfect ending to our journey.
I sat on a bench in the lobby of the Storybrooke courthouse. Beside me sat Anthony, Ben, and Danny. Danny's mother and his little sisters sat on the bench across from us as they spoke with Sheriff Swam, who was also here to testify. We sat together, the five orphans and I, waiting to hear the jury's final decision. We had all been here since very early this morning. We had had our time on the stand and were now growing very anxious. I was able to calm down a bit though, as I trusted Mrs. Bellagio would get justice for those who had lost loves ones because of that awful man in there…the man I regrettably call my father.
I listened as Mrs. Bellagio delivered her closing statements. Though I was not in the courtroom, her voice forcefully echoed through the lobby.
"Mr. Gold is a well-known man in Storybrooke. Well, with a population of about 2,000, I suppose we're all pretty well known" Mrs. Bellagio said, earning her some laughter from those present in the courtroom. "Most of you probably recognize the name as the owner of Gold's Pawn shop. As a store owner, especially of a store as successful as Gold's is, there is a certain level of responsibility one must take to ensure the safety of sold products- a level that Mr. Gold failed to reach. Because of his carelessness, five people are now dead, three children have been placed in an orphanage because they either have no living family or their surviving parent cannot afford to support them, and one child is living in the Storybrooke orphanage because he would rather be there than live with his own father, Mr. Gold".
I stopped listening after that. I already knew the story; I didn't need to hear it again. It was the tragic story of a faulty space heater that resulted in the tragic deaths of 5 brave firemen. One had no family. One had a son named Ben who now had no other family and was forced to move into the orphanage. The third had only a wife, a wife who was now giving a killer opening statement in his honor. One had three children- a son and two daughters. A son named Danny, who was brave enough to go move into the orphanage to his mother could take care of his sisters. The final victim on Storybrooke's biggest fire in history was married and had a son, Anthony, whose mother cannot support him on her own, forcing him too to live in the Storybrooke City Orphanage.
But there was one more new member of SCO. His father was a malicious killer. He sold the space heater even though he knew it was faulty and would result is a house fire. He caused the death of these men. And this boy I know, the boy from this story, he feels awful. He knows this is in no way his fault, but he cannot help but think that maybe if he had not recommended his father's shop to the family looking for a cheap source of heat, maybe those firefighters would still be alive. Maybe these boys wouldn't be living at an orphanage. Maybe these wives wouldn't be struggling so hard to pay the bills.
Yes, a tragic story indeed.
Could it be possible for this story to have a happy ending? Could the mourning prosecutor beat the evil shop owner? Could the victims of this tragedy get their revenge against the notoriously thrifty Mr. Gold? They would take his shop if the law suit was successful. We would be good shopkeepers. Another faulty item would never be sold. Another family would ever be broken by Gold's Pawn Shop. Our revenge would mean that every person in Storybrooke who relied on electric heating because oil had become too expensive could relax and no longer wonder if their house would be the next to meet its demise. Our revenge would better Storybrooke as a whole.
Sadly, as I listened to the jury's verdict, I realized life's journeys can't always have fairytale endings.